


Cookies and Milk

by sadsongssaysomuch



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsongssaysomuch/pseuds/sadsongssaysomuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky doesn't like milk. However, he does like cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies and Milk

At first, when the cookies started disappearing, Steve chalked it up to just not remembering how many he had eaten. He liked to drink a big glass of milk in the evenings and nothing went better with milk, than cookies.

But when he knew he had left five chocolate chip cookies in the pantry the night before, and then couldn’t find them the next day, he knew Bucky was the one eating them.

Steve didn’t care if Bucky ate his cookies. He would have been glad to share. But he hated thinking he could go have some cookies and a tall glass of cold milk only to find that there weren’t any cookies. So he confronted his friend about it.

“Hey Bucky, have you been eating my cookies?” he asked.

Bucky eyed Steve, his forehead wrinkling in thought.  He raised an eyebrow, challengingly. “Nope,” he said.  

Steve held up the glass of milk he was currently holding, sloshing it in Bucky’s direction. “Are you sure? Because I know I had cookies left and now I’ve got this glass of milk… and no cookies.”

“Don’t know why you’d think it was me. If I wanted cookies, I wouldn’t go sneaking around taking them when you were asleep or something. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Steve looked at Bucky as he rambled on, waiting for him to admit to the cookie thievery. Bucky just denied his involvement once again, smirked and then he had refused to talk about it.

Steve _knew_ Bucky was the one taking his cookies; it couldn’t have been anyone else. If Bucky wouldn’t admit it, he wasn’t going to start an argument over something as stupid as cookies. Even if they were the best cookies he’d ever tasted. Huge, chewy cookies packed full of chocolate chips.

So Steve decided that if Bucky wouldn’t admit to eating his cookies, he was going to play dirty. He started hiding the cookies as soon as he brought them home. He chose a different spot each time, always being careful to make sure Bucky didn’t see where he was stashing them.

And it seemed to be working, Steve’s cookies were always there when he went to eat them and Bucky never said a word.

It _was_ working, until the day he went out for groceries and left Bucky at home. He wasn’t gone long but when he returned home, Steve walked through the door to a seemingly empty apartment  
  
“Bucky?” He called. “You here?” He walked through the living room, listening for a response. Receiving none, he continued through to the kitchen.  
  
“Bucky? I brought dinner, because I know you like pizza and I figured it’d be easier than cooking, it’s from that place you like over on – ” He paused, shocked by the sight before him. The kitchen was a mess. It looked like a tornado had gone through and then a hurricane had followed after. Most of the cupboard doors were nearly ripped clean off of their hinges. The contents of said cabinets were spread across the counters and the floor. The refrigerator was wide open and in a similar state, a carton of milk tipped on its side and the contents pooling on the floor, not to mention several containers of leftovers that had been tossed around and opened. All of the pots, pans and utensils from the drawers were precariously piled on the dining room table and chairs.  
  
With all of his senses on alert, Steve set the pizza box on top of the stove along with the two bags from the supermarket and tip-toed through the destroyed room. Clenching his fists and wishing he had his shield, he crept around the doorway and slowly peeked around the corner. The hallway was empty and obviously untouched. The pictures still hung on the walls, frames straight and even and the long, narrow rug was still in place. In a few short strides he reached the end of the hall and paused before the doors there. The door to the linen closet was ajar, towels and sheets, which had been meticulously folded, were in disarray. The doors to the bathroom and the bedroom both stood slightly ajar. Peering into the bathroom, Steve saw that the same sort of mess there too. The drawers were all pulled out and the medicine cabinet had been ransacked, bandages, cotton swabs, toilet paper and toothpaste were littering the floor. With a furrowed brow, Steve turned his attention to the bedroom. He nudged the door fully open with his foot and stalked in.  
  
The bedroom was trashed just as the rest of the apartment had been; the drawers were flung open and clothes and other sundries were thrown around the room. The closet was in a similar state of disarray, clothes that had been hung on hangers, pressed to perfection now littered the floor. As Steve turned, surveying the room he saw Bucky, sitting on the bed looking as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  
  
Bucky sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, a satisfied smile on his face and an empty bakery box beside him.  
  
Steve felt his shoulders relax, the tension leaving his frame. Bucky was okay. He was almost afraid to ask what had happened.

Bucky hadn’t noticed him at first, he was too busy licking the fingers of his right hand. Steve watched him, feeling simultaneously fascinated and confused. When Bucky did notice him, he swallowed sharply and smiled his crooked smile.  
  
“Steve,” he said, as a blush crept across his cheeks.  
  
“What happened?” Steve asked dryly.  
  
Bucky blushed deeper and shifted his gaze from Steve to the empty white box beside him, and then back to Steve.  
  
“I, uh, wanted some cookies?”

Steve shook his head. He never should have underestimated Bucky’s sweet tooth. He remembered the milk carton that had spilled all over the kitchen. “Guess you didn’t want any milk to go with that, huh pal?” he asked, a smile forming on his lips.

“No thanks,” Bucky replied. “I’m not fond of milk.”

Steve came to sit beside Bucky on the bed. “Good thing I’m fond of you, jerk. You ate all my cookies.”

“Your fault punk,” Bucky replied with a chuckle. “You never should have hidden them. What were you thinking anyway, hiding cookies under the bed? That was the last place I thought about looking—”

Abruptly, Steve brought his face close to Bucky’s and pulled him in for a long kiss, stopping Bucky’s babbling mid-sentence.

 When they parted, Bucky was breathless and his cheeks were flushed once again.  

“Almost as good as getting to eat the cookies myself,” Steve said with a grin.

This time, Bucky was speechless.


End file.
